The Golden Jewel
by SilverElvenEyes
Summary: Legolas's twin, Laure, is enamored of the open world. Laure yearns for freedom but her father is bent on refusing her dreams. When she finally finds a friend she will have to choose between her peole and her love. Not mary-sue! No slash!pg-13 for violence
1. Chapter One

By: LadyoftheRings

Rating: PG-13 for violence. May go up to R in one chapter.

Feedback: LadyoftheRings35@hotmail.com

Spoilers: If you haven't read the Two Towers or the Return of the King. 

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Middle-Earth or J.R.R. Tolkien's world or characters. Everything recognizable J.R.R. Tolkien's, all else is mine. I am receiving no money for this, and this story was written purely for enjoyment.

Summary: Few know that Legolas Greenleaf was born a twin, and that his twin Laurëmîr was enamored of the human race. But when tragedy befalls him, can Laurëmîr prevent him from killing the one she loves?

Series: None.

Other disclaimers:   
Any spelling, date, place or character errors are the fault   
of the author only and are totally by accident. I am not an   
expert on Middle Earth and do not claim to be. Please   
forgive any omissions or errors you might find. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

_The Golden Jewel_

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*~*Chapter One*~*

"Come, Master Elf," Gimli growled over his pipe, eyes watering in the smoke slightly. "All of us have told a tale but _you. I think it high time you return the favor."_

            It was the evening after Arwen and Aragorn's marriage. All the Company was gathered in Minas Tirith for an evening of story-telling; Arwen, her brothers and her father were also present. 

            "Yes, Legolas," Arwen said in her lyrical voice. "Come, tell us a tale from beyond the Misty Mountains!"

            Legolas, like the other elves, had been sitting upwind of the smoke from Aragorn, Gandalf and Gimli's pipes. The hobbits were all too tired to smoke, curled on the couches nearest to the fire and digesting their latest feast. Legolas sat on the window sill, one leg dangling outside the room. His arms were wrapped around his other knee, resting his head on his leg as he watched the stars and breathed in the cool, fresh air. He tilted his head slightly and regarded Gimli with an amused smile. "My life was not all that interesting before this," he answered. "Nevertheless, I do have a tale to tell, though I am not the main theme. But only if you put out those pipes and their smoke will I tell."

            Aragorn laughed. It was well known that Legolas disliked the smell of smoke—probably because in his homeland it usually meant forest-fires—and it amused his friends to no end that he usually sat upwind from them. 

            "Very well, my dear Legolas," Gandalf sighed, putting his pipe down. "This had better be a good tale indeed, though."

            Legolas smiled, his gray eyes showing almost black in the firelight. He leapt lightly back into the room and settled himself on the floor. One side of his face was in shadow, the other illuminated by the few candles scattered in the room. His dark hair was held back by a silver clasp, and he was dressed all in silver and green. He looked every inch the mysterious but benevolent elf of all the old stories. 

            "I shall let you decide that," he said. Elrond caught the elf's gaze; he knew of the story Legolas was going to tell, and was surprised the elf, silent after so many years, choose to tell it now. Legolas nodded slightly to the elf-lord, and then turned his attention back to the room. 

            "Go on, Legolas," Aragorn prompted. "You have our attention now."

            Legolas smiled sadly and began. 

_The Tale of_

_Legolas Greenleaf_

_and___

_Laurëmîr Goldjewel_

_as__ told by_

_Legolas and Laurëmîr_

            Few of you know that I was born a twin. My sister, Laurëmîr and I were the first-born children of my father, King Thranduil, and he loved us dearly. 

            I am, or so I have been told, most in looks and attitude like my mother; Laurëmîr, or Laurë as she chooses to be called, was more like to my father. Perhaps that is why they argued so much. She was quick to laugh, quicker to anger or to scold, but also quickest to forgive. I was perhaps the quieter of us two (being the youngest by two minutes), and more interested in weapons of war than my sister. 

            As children we were inseparable, and we shared a room and a bed for many years. Siblings in general and twins in particular form a bond together that stays all their lives. We would play together, laugh together and irked our elders together. But Laurë was, I can now see, also very protective of me. Being two minutes older can make a difference, you know. She never took me on the most dangerous of her forays, though I wanted to. She never told me how, exactly, she slipped past the magical door without being caught, nor how she slipped past our sentries unnoticed. As she grew older she went further and explored more, landing her in deeper trouble. She would come back to me and whisper tales in my ear of places we were forbidden to go; deep into Mirkwood where she spoke with Radagast, across to Laketown and once even so fair as the town of Dale. Laurë was never still, never silent. She had too much imagination to stay cooped up in a mere forest.  

            By the judgment of my people, we were nothing special. I was moderately handsome, and she was fairly pretty. But there was something about Laurë that made you stop and look at her again. Our father called her Ril—that is, brilliance. She fairly bubbled with life and with laughter. The gravest of my father's advisers would stop and smile as she skipped down the hall. She was an indomitable spirit, and a joyous one.

            She was also perhaps the most mischievous elf-child in the history of our people. Elven-children by nature need little discipline if any as they grow. Laurëmîr was the exception. If trouble could not find her, she went searching for it. Together we wrecked havoc on our quiet palace. Once, during a feast, we switched all the wine with grape juice and the champagne with sparkling cider. Laurë's crowning victory, and one she let me in on, was when she switched the hobbit-sized statue of an elf on a horse, made from spun sugar with a duplicate made from glass. Everyone was puzzled when our father couldn't pierce it with his spoon. They found us curled on our bed, laughing so hard we cried.

            For it we were kept in the palace for a month and were not allowed to stay up late or go to any of the parties. Laurë's next two ventures into the wide world, though, would be her greatest in all our childhood. 

            "Legolas," she whispered to me one night, her gray eyes dancing with silent laughter. "I am going to Laketown tomorrow."

            "What?" I hissed. "You can not go! We are forbidden to leave the palace after the spun sugar fiasco!"

            "Forbidden shmidden," she retorted. "I am going to see this mayor father keeps talking about. Maybe I can convince him to lower the prices for our wine."

            "Laurë, you have gone mad! You will never make it past the gate."

            "We'll see." Her eyes glimmered. "Will you come?"

            I squirmed. I wanted to, but I didn't want more punishment duty. "Stay then," she said. "I think no less of you."

            That did it. "I am coming!" I said, too loud.

            "Hush!" she hissed even as the door opened and Mother came in.

            "You two," she said with a shake of her head, sitting down on the bed and putting an affectionate hand on each of our heads. "Mischief brews in the dark hours of the night, no?" She laughed. "What plan lies behind those fiery eyes?" she asked Laurë. "What passion burns so bright as to risk our wrath to find?"

            Laurë's eyes did indeed burn with inner flame, and she laughed lightly. "Why, mother, you grow mistrustful! Why should I choose to punish myself?"

            Mother shook a finger at her. "Because you search for something you cannot find here. And remember, Laurë, you may fool your father with your round, wide eyes and hanging head, but you do not fool me. Young one, you have all your long life yet to live. Leave some surprises for when you are older."

            "I will try, mother."

            "Good." She kissed each of us. "To bed with you, younglings. You've had quite enough fun at our expense for one day."

            She closed the door behind us, shutting out the noises of a feast going on. 

            "Laurë?"

            "What?"

            "Are we still going tomorrow?"

            "Of course!"

            "But mother said…"

            "She said I did not fool her. Fine. But father is having terrible problems with the wine prices, I heard him say. I am going to help him."

            I sighed. "Laurë…"

            "What now?"

            "Must we?"

            "Yes. Calm dreams, Legolas."

            "Calm dreams, Laurë."

            The next morning, Laurë woke me well before dawn. "Do you still want to come?" she asked as I yawned and rubbed my eyes.

            "Of course!" I snapped, shivering in the cold air.

            "Here, dress warmly." 

            "Stop fussing."

            "I'm _not fussing."_

            "Are too!"

            "Are not!"

            We fell silent and listened to hear if any had heard our arguing. There was no sound, so early it was. Laurë turned to me with a satisfied smile. "Let's go."

            We jumped from our window to the trees and from there to the ground. Laurë took my hand and pulled me through the dark on a well-worn path. I was afraid, for I could not see and I did not know if Laurë was getting us lost. But I trusted Laurë to get us there safely, and stayed quiet. 

            At last we came to a swift-moving stream. There was a boat tied to this side, and without hesitation we jumped in. We had no fear of water, learning to swim before we could walk, almost. 

            Together we paddled and struggled across the stream where we left the boat and ran down towards Laketown just as the sun began to lighten the sky. Laurë stopped, looking over the distance past Laketown to the Lonely Mountain.

            "Someday, I will travel there and meet the great dwarf-smiths," she whispered to herself. I tugged at her hand impatiently and, giggling like little children, we ran into town.

            It was no small matter getting through unseen. There were sentries everywhere, and I was used to the cover of forest. The sudden baroness of the town's streets and roadways was a shock for me. But Laurë had been here before, and had no fear of being caught.

            "This is the house," she whispered, pointing to a large and well-kept two story house. The window in the second story was open. "I'll boost you up," she said, cupping her hands. I made the jump and crawled inside. She followed a second later. 

            I stared wide-eyed at the sleeping man. He was as tall as an elf, burley and thick and he snored. He also needed a bath.

            Laurë giggled behind her hand as she walked forward to look in the man's face. "Mr. Mayor," she said in a sing-song voice. "Come out and play!"

            Laurë's cockiness got the better of her. She hadn't realized that the man had been aware of our breaking and entering. She squeaked with fear as his eyes snapped open and he grabbed her. 

            "Run, Legolas!" she gasped.

            "Two o' you!" he roared. "You li'l thieves!" 

            Laurë screamed. I was frozen as the man came towards me, dragging Laurë. "Run, little brother!" she yelled, struggling with all her might. But for all her cleverness she was a slight thing yet, only about the size of a small mortal nine-year-old. She struggled harder to no avail.

            I made a dash for the window but was caught by my hair. I yelled as I felt it pull and tried to scramble free but I couldn't get any leverage to bite or kick.

            I heard pounding on the floor below. More humans!

            In desperation I ripped my head away and sprang through the window. Warm blood covered my scalp where the man had ripped a fistful of hair from my head and I sobbed in pain. I heard Laurë screaming as I fell, but I was too scared to go back. 

            I ran out of the city, not caring who saw me now, and headed for the boat. It was hard to paddle across with only one of us, and I struggled, sobbing all the way. 

            When I made it back to the palace it was nearly noon. My parents were in a panic. Of course, when they saw me staggering up, my head covered in dried blood, sobbing and crying Laurë's name, they were sure the worst had happened. 

            My father summoned the elves to battle, prepared to fight to get his daughter back. But before the elves could even arm themselves, up rides Laurë on a pretty little white pony with the man who had grabbed me and a small escort. She was grinning like a fool, looking much too proud of herself. 

            The man dismounted and bowed to my mother and father. "I apol'gize for my mis'taking yur children for thieves," he said humbly. "We've had a few prob'ems in our town o' late, and there are ma'nay who would see me dead. I am afraid I…o'er r'acted."

            He looked at me, my thumb in my mouth and my eyes red from crying with a bandage over my head, my mother's arm holding me close to her side. "I'm sorry, li'l prince. Can you find it in you to forgive me?"

            I nodded and buried my face in my mother's skirt. "Laurë," my father said sternly. "Get down from there."

            Laurë hopped off and came forward, beaming. "Father, I—" she began. 

            My father slapped her. She gasped and stared, her hand coming up to her face. Tears welled in her eyes.

            "Go to your room," he said coldly in our language. "You have disgraced us all."

            He turned back to the mayor. "I am truly sorry at my daughter's interference. She can be a…spirited child."

            "It was no interference, lord. She's a sweet lass—in fact, I've decided to lo'er the tax on the wine for you." If father could have let his jaw drop, it would have hit the ground. 

            "We thank you," he said, "both for that and the returning of my daughter safe. What can we give you in return?"

            He smiled. "A' hour o' talking with yur daughter was payment enough. What a bright lass, for one so small and young!" He remounted, took the pony's reins, and with the customary farewells, rode off into the distance. 

            Father was silent for a long moment. "Legolas," he said in an odd tone, "why did you and your sister go to Laketown?"

            "Laurë wanted to get the mayor to lower the prices for the wine," I whispered. "She said she heard you saying you were being over-charged."

            Father sighed and brought a hand to his face. "Laurë, my Laurë, why do you do this to us?" he mourned. 

            I tried to help Laurë. "Father, it was my idea."

            "Do not lie, Legolas," my mother said quietly. "It will not help Laurë."

            I shivered and leaned against her. "How are we to be punished?" I asked.

            "You will not be allowed to leave the palace for a mortal year."

            I gasped. "Father!"

            "Silence, Legolas! I will have no more of these incursions into the world without my notice!" 

            "For your sister, that time is to be lengthened to five mortal years. If she does…if she does, I will lock her in her room for the remaining time plus the original sentence."

            I stared. For a young elf, such imprisonment is harsh indeed. Now that I am older I can understand why our father put such limits on our movements. We were the only children of a powerful monarch. We could be captured for ransom, killed by wild spiders, or any other such thing that I did not realize at the time.

            Dejected and dispirited I went to our room, but Laurë and her stuff was gone. I ran back into the hall. "Father, Laurë is gone!"

            "No, Legolas. I have moved her and her things to another palace. You may not sleep together again. Her bad habits rub off on you."

            "They _don't!" I yelled._

            "Be silent!" my father thundered and I stepped back, a little afraid. "Go to your room. You will have no supper tonight."

            I slammed the door behind me.

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Any comments? Things you like, didn't like, etc.? If you've read this far, please review!

 **__**


	2. Chapter Two

By: LadyoftheRings

Rating: PG-13 for violence. May go up to R in one chapter.

Feedback: LadyoftheRings35@hotmail.com

Spoilers: If you haven't read the Two Towers or the Return of the King. 

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Middle-Earth or J.R.R. Tolkien's world or characters. Everything recognizable J.R.R. Tolkien's, all else is mine. I am receiving no money for this, and this story was written purely for enjoyment.

Summary: Few know that Legolas Greenleaf was born a twin, and that his twin Laurëmîr was enamored of the human race. But when tragedy befalls him, can Laurëmîr prevent him from killing the one she loves?

Series: None.

Other disclaimers:   
Any spelling, date, place or character errors are the fault of the author only and are totally by accident. I am not an expert on Middle Earth and do not claim to be. Please forgive any omissions or errors you might find. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

_The Golden Jewel_

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*~*Chapter Two*~*

            I was a rebellious young elf, there is no doubt. And it was long years indeed before I could forgive my father for constraining me to the palace for five mortal years. After all, I was not one to be dominated by a mere king of the elves. 

            I was also devastated that my brother and I could no longer share a room (apparently our parents had decided this shortly before my little foray to Laketown) since it meant we could no longer talk late into the night. 

            I was irritable and short-tempered, and broodily silent around my parents. I think they believed I was going through a phase (they were wrong) and that eventually I would grow out of my wild adventuring (also wrong). It did not help that Legolas was smitten with a girl I considered to be a leaf-pated numskull.

            The elf-girl was about our age, named Luinros. She was similar to Legolas in that she was a good singer, liked to read and write, and was wise beyond her years.

            I hated her.

I hated her for taking Legolas away from me, I hated her for being prettier than me, and I hated her for singing better than me. I hated her because she was everything I wanted to be.

            After Legolas' year of confinement was up, she and Legolas would go for long picnics in the woods, leaving me in the palace, alone and bitter. They would laugh and sing together, and during the festivals they danced together. Looking back, I could hardly begrudge the young couple their happy times. After all, just because I was miserable didn't mean everyone else had to be.

            I think that if I had gone to father, told him I was sorry and that I wouldn't ever do such a thing again, he had have forgiven me and let me out on probation. But I was too prideful to ask for forgiveness for something when, in my mind, I had done nothing wrong.

            And this was exactly why father kept me in the palace.

            No one was surprised when Luinros and Legolas announced their wish to wed when they came of age. No one was unhappy or dismayed or hurt at the announcement. Except me.

            Legolas no longer came to see me in the evenings. I do not think he realized until he was much older just how much I missed him. We were twins, after all. We had done things together since before we could talk. For me, it was as though my arm had been cut off. And even though we had a bond that allowed each of us to know how the other felt, Legolas was so happy he never felt my sorrow. He never saw me lurking in the shadows as he fed her a grape or she fed him a piece of bread. He never realized I hated Luinros more than the Dark Lord himself. 

            I was in my fifth year. I should have waited. I should not have done it. In two months I could have been free. But I was blinded by my anger and my hurt, and I did it.

            I ran away.

            It was a full moon. The stars were dim, a bad omen which I proceeded to ignore. I was no fool, and knew that the journey would take many days even on horseback. I was no good with a bow—another thing that lowered me in the eyes of my kindred—but I could wield a knife fairly well. I slipped out of the palace doors. I suppose my father took off the barriers that kept me inside the palace sometime and forgot to put them back on. I took as much water and food as my horse and I could carry. I did not ride; I put the supplies on my horse and ran in front of her. Then I rode north and never looked back. 

            I hated Luinros. 

            I ran through the forest for a long time, until long after dawn. My horse trotted behind me, snorting often when I would pause to walk for a ways. I was still in territory I knew, and watched the sunlight filter down through the leaves. The underbrush had mostly been cleared, leaving rows of trees in all directions, and a path before my feet. It was a dream come true. 

By the end of the first week, however, I was tired and thirsty and hungry. So was my dear horse, so trusting and loyal. She followed me steadily, though her head drooped with weariness.

During the night I huddled near my horse and made no fire. In the darkness I could see many eyes come and go; but when I dared to sing my voice seemed to chase them off. I was lucky; I had no encounters with the deadly spiders.

            "Maybe I have been foolish," I said to my mare. "Maybe I should never have left." She whiffed softly and nuzzled me. I stroked her face and closed my eyes. Mirkwood was dark here, and cold. I wished for sunlight.

            Two weeks after I had left the palace I emerged, weary and sore-foot from the Mirkwood forest. My eyes widened at the sight of the Misty Mountains. I hugged myself. 

            "Freedom," I whispered.

            I led my mare south where I knew I would find Beorn. I came to his house with high hopes. 

The bees I heard first. I winced—they were huge—but did not swat at them. I was not that foolish. One of his ponies saw me and whickered in a friendly way, before trotting off to get Beorn.

He was huge. I gulped and stared as he leaned on his axe and watched me. I was tiny, and had no hope of escaping the hold of one so big should I ever be caught. I had forgotten that journeys always had some sort of obstacle to overcome. 

"Well, little elf-princess," he growled. "What brings you so far from home."

"I seek adventure and the unknown," I answered bravely. I did not feel so brave. I felt lonely and, for the first time, a little scared. I wasn't sure what to make of the wide world. 

He seemed to notice my uncertainty. "All right then," he muttered grudgingly. "Come inside." He offered me food and drink, and in return I told him stories. I stayed with him for two days, and then set out south for Lothlórien. I wished to meet the Lady Galadriel.

            The road was, again, uneventful, and I found myself wishing for an orc ambush—anything to keep away the cold night ground and the long, boring days.

When I came insight of Lothlórien for the first time, I was in awe. It was a beautiful forest even from the outside, ranging far as the eye could see. I urged my mare a little faster.

Under the eves of the forest it was cool and welcoming. I found a stream and watered my horse. The leaves were golden and fluttered down around me. I looked about and laughed lightly. I was afraid no more. 

An arrow thunked into the tree near my head and I jumped. "Doro*!" came the cry from above.

I jumped and froze as an elf dropped from the trees in front of me. He was tall and stern, imposing. I shrank back.

"What is your name? Speak quickly!"

"Laurëmîr, daughter of Thranduil."

A smile broke out over the elf's face. "Why, lady, luck is with you. Your father awaits you not far from here."

My heart dropped to my toes.

            I was livid. 

            And terrified.

            Father just looked at me when I was brought before him. "Five more years," is all he said. I screamed and cried and begged, but to no avail. Five more years of confinement. And I had been so close to freedom.

            We returned, me fully subdued and father stonily silent. At home, Legolas was in his element. Hardly bothered by my disappearance, he fussed over Luinros like she was a dying rose blossom. I'll never understand what he saw in her. But what I did understand was he loved her. 

            He loved her like he used to love me. 

*     *     *     *

            I do not believe, looking back, that I actually hated Luinros—what I hated was that Legolas liked her. I wanted to be the woman that Legolas looked up to, the woman he would talk to. I wanted to be that confided-in person, that wise counselor. It irked me that Legolas no longer needed my protection or advice. 

            It was a year and a half after my little escape to Lothlórien. My mother had finally stepped in before I went mad of boredom and allowed me to come to the feasts. I was sitting in a corner after dinner, watching Luinros and Legolas sit together, giggling like infants. I had a perpetual scowl on my face. Father said the room temperature dropped whenever I went into it. This did not improve my mood. 

            "Luinros, Legolas," my mother said calmly, ignoring my dark gaze. "Would you do us the honor of a song?"

            Luinros blushed prettily, and that just boiled my blood. I thought several words I had heard humans speak, and stayed silent.

            "_Linnathon__*," I said suddenly. I do not know what possessed me. I am a horrible singer, have been since I was born. I think I could not take that Luinros was getting so much attention anymore. I had to steal some back._

            Father did not even glance at me. "You were not asked, Laurë."

            "I wish to sing, father." My tone was cold, even disrespectful. Legolas glared at me. Luinros smiled indulgently and patted his arm soothingly. I turned a darker shade of red.

            "Oh, lady," Luinros said kindly, "we know that you enjoy singing greatly but…ah…do you not think perhaps your voice is not…as refined as others?"

            I came so close to saying or doing something violent to her that I do not even care to remember it. There are two things that elves consider attractive—hair and voice. My hair was not particularly thick or flowing or satiny. My voice was beautiful by a human's standard but nearly ugly by ours. I was plan of face and short of stature. I was not properly respectful or humble. I was the Strange Princess.

            But I had a skill with comebacks.

            "Why, no, Luinros," I said sweetly, "but my brain is more refined than some."

            The Court was shocked; no one had any time to protest. Standing up, sending a prayer to Elbereth for good luck, I began to sing. 

            I instantly realized my problem. Most elf-women have high, striking voices. Mine was lower, closer to a man's. If I tried to sing high my throat hurt and I sounded awful. I dropped my voice an octave and sang my heart out. 

            To this day I have never sung again as I did then. I think I poured my heart and will into that song, that it _must be good, or Legolas would never care about me again, and so it was. My voice filled the Hall, resonated on every wall, in every ear, through every heart. _

            I made the song and tune up. I had no idea what I was going to sing before hand but it came to me nevertheless. 

_Freedom comes in many forms_

_Swords and fires wielding_

_But how to find my freedom, friend_

_When freedom is unyielding?_

_What path doth thy take to find_

_The sorrows of the soul_

_What road oh must I find to see_

_My destiny unfold?_

_Where shadows fall there runs the way_

_To find out what I seek_

_Under darkened arches are_

_The ancient and the weak_

_If words can cry then mine now weep_

_For none call tell the tale_

_My world is shattered 'yond repair_

_My hopes and dreams are frail_

_But in the distance I hear the call_

_Of Freedom from afar_

_I come for thy, o ancient friend_

_To where the dream-souls are_

            There was a long silence. Everyone was shocked beyond all belief. Luinros looked faintly puzzled and Legolas looked annoyed. I smiled, pleased with myself.

            "My lords, my ladies." I bowed. "I take your leave." I left the room smiling for the first in a long time.

*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*

*Doro = halt!

*Linnathon = I will sing, I will chant.

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	3. Chapter Three

By: LadyoftheRings

Rating: PG-13 for violence. May go up to R in one chapter.

Feedback: LadyoftheRings35@hotmail.com

Spoilers: If you haven't read the Two Towers or the Return of the King. 

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Middle-Earth or J.R.R. Tolkien's world or characters. Everything recognizable J.R.R. Tolkien's, all else is mine. I am receiving no money for this, and this story was written purely for enjoyment.

Summary: Few know that Legolas Greenleaf was born a twin, and that his twin Laurëmîr was enamored of the human race. But when tragedy befalls him, can Laurëmîr prevent him from killing the one she loves?

Series: None.

Other disclaimers:   
Any spelling, date, place or character errors are the fault of the author only and are totally by accident. I am not an expert on Middle Earth and do not claim to be. Please forgive any omissions or errors you might find. 

A/N: First of all: Thank you to all who reviewed! I read and consider everything that you tell me, even the things you don't like. And as for the whole spun sugar thing, mainly it came from the thinking that elves in general were much, much more advanced in civilization at the time than humans. Consider the fancy cloth they wore, able to weave river, sun, grass, and rock into garments to hide the wearer, as the elves of Lothlórien did in _The Fellowship of the Ring. _

A quick note though. Although I appreciate constructive criticism, keep in mind this stuff is just for fun. I don't want or expect to publish this, I'm not intent on polishing it, and frankly I really don't care if it's junk or note. I like writing it and that's what matters. I thank the reviewers who tell me what you don't like and do like and so on, but remember this is just the dumb stories bouncing around my head. I only write them to get the plots out of my head so I can write the stuff I'm really good at—which is not fan fiction. And if my characters are annoying or Mary-Sueish, well…that's just the way the plots bounce around in my head. Try not to be too hard on me, I have only been writing for a short time, and this is not, repeat not, anywhere near the good stuff I've done. Thanks to all!

-LadyoftheRings

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_The Golden Jewel_

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*~*Chapter Three*~*

I slowly walked down towards my sister's room. It felt so strange, finally coming of age and marrying Luinros. I had not seen my sister for a few days, our tasks had kept us apart, and now I wanted to see her again, and speak to her, while I had the change. My marriage was in two days.

            I knocked on the wooden door. I could hear movement inside, and then a voice, sharp and obviously strained called, "Who knocks?"

            "Sister, can you not yet recognize my footsteps?" I teased lightly, opening the door. 

            Laurë sat on her bed. I could tell she had been crying from the redness of her eyes and cheeks. She looked away from me.

            "Sister?"

            "Go away, Legolas."

            I said nothing, only closed the door. She would not look at me. "What's wrong, Laurë?"

            "Everything. Now go away."

            "Maybe it would help…"

            "No. Go. You have your Luinros to water."

            "What?" I was, as of yet, unaware of her observation that I fussed over Luinros like a wilting rose. 

            She sighed. "Never mind."        

            I began to grow a bit annoyed. "What does this have to do with Luinros? And why are you angry at her?"

            Laurë stiffened. "Oh, you mean that spoiled, bratty, overly-refined glass doll?" she snarled with much more venom than I expected. "_That Luinros? The one that you sit next to, petting like a favorite lapdog, who licks your hands whenever you smile at her and wags her tail whenever you praise her?"_

            My face tightened with anger. "Who are you to judge her?" I demanded.

            "You abandoned me for her, the little…" she trailed off as her voice broke. She turned away, but not before I had seen the tears in her eyes. I was puzzled. What was this all about?

            "You were so blind that you never even saw it," she added, sensing what I was about to say. "You never noticed that you stopped coming to talk to me, to visit me when I was confined."           

            "Your confinement was your own fault," I said in a tone harder than I had meant it.

            I saw her body go rigid and knew I had hit a sore spot. "Get out." Her voice was flat, with no trace of sorrow.

            "No."

            She turned. "And still you cannot see it." Her voice mocked me, and her eyes were angry, but underneath I sensed real hurt. "Still you walk your perfect little elven wife around on a perfect little elven leash so you can have a perfect little elven family. Well I _don't want to live that life! And so be it if you do. I no longer care. Get you gone. I no longer care." She turned to the window and kept her back firmly to my face._

            "If you had really tried, you could have kept out of trouble and been with me more often."

            "It would have made no difference. You were so busy making eyes at that little prissy elf-girl that you never even noticed when I watched from the corner, when no one would talk to me after my latest adventure, when father was so angry that he would not look at me, when mother was so frustrated that she would not speak to me." Laurë turned around. "You never noticed!" she cried. "You never noticed that you stopped coming to see me! You never noticed that you stopped talking to me! You never noticed that you let our friendship die! And now look at you! The perfect prince marrying his perfect wife so they can have perfect children and live in a perfect palace! Well I am sick of it! Everyone around here expects me to be the perfect princess, and I am so tired of it! And if I am not perfect, I am ostracized. I'm the crown Heir and I still could be horse manure for all you notice me!"

            I regret to say that I was completely insensitive. At the time, I was angry with her for being selfish. It was, after all, two days before my marriage. I wanted her to be all smiles and congratulations. I should have known that she was not like that.

            "You've always been so selfish, so immature," I said coolly. "It surprises me not that you've been such a disappointment to us." She gasped and looked as though I had struck her. The pain her face held rattled me. "Laurëmîr—"

            "Go." She turned her back on me again, staring out her window. "You have said what you came to say." 

            I wish I had stayed. I wish I had apologized. I wish I had told her that even though we fight, she was still my sister, even though I was marrying Luinros, I still loved her. 

            But I did not, and it remains one of my greatest regrets that I allowed a woman to come between us.

*     *     *     *

            Two days later, it was my marriage. As the ceremony progressed, I looked futilely for my sister. I did not truly expect her to be there, but it angered me nonetheless that she had not come. As I continued to search, however, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that she had indeed come, and my heart jumped. I felt a sudden anger at her that puzzled me. I had wanted her to come, but now I did not want her there. Was it because she had insulted Luinros? I did not know. I felt so conflicted. She caught my glance and nodded. I nodded back, and turned to the ceremony.

            Soon after the ceremony, my thoughts were turned to other things.

*     *     *     *

            When the traveler came, I thought little of him. It was not unusual for a human to accidentally run astray I the woods near Laketown and stumble around until they found one of our sentries, and was brought to the palace. Besides, all my thought had turned upon my dear sparkling bride, Luinros. I had nearly forgotten the harsh confrontation with my sister, though she had not. Whenever I saw her in the halls, she turned her face from me. I was annoyed with her to be sure, but I had not realized how hard my words of her singleness had hit her; I had not realized that I had hit upon one of her fears. For indeed no elven men had expressed any interest in her, rare for a princess. And with her aging past her sixty-ninth mortal year, when elves generally marry around their fiftieth year, soon after they come of age, it was no wonder she was afraid she would live alone. 

            Laurëmîr was lonely, that much I could see. I had always been her best friend. She had too sharp a tongue, too quick a temper to easily be accepted by the other elves of our generation. She was quick to speak and slow to think of her words. I had forgiven her when we were younger, but as we aged, I grew tired of it. 

            I remember one the evening the traveler was brought before us. Laurë sat on our mother's right, and Luinros and me upon our father's left. He was a tall man, dark haired and tanned with a beard and bushy eyebrows. He had a deep voice, booming and strong. His face was weathered and tired, and his muscles finely honed. He was what the elves considered at the time, a barbarian. 

            Laurëmîr looked at him suddenly, and in her eyes, I saw a light. She had always been interested in humans and dwarves, more so than was considered usual. It was another thing that had painfully set her apart from our people, another thing for which they could not forgive her. Isildur's failure was still fresh in our minds. 

            "What brings you to our forest, human?" father asked sharply.

            "I come before you to beg assistance," the man said in a steady voice, no fear in his eyes or stance, despite the harsh looks from my family and from the court. "My sister has been taken by wild orcs, and my men have all been killed searching for her. I beg that you let me go, to find her if I can."

            "You shall be released," my father said.

            "Could you be so kind as to allow me to refill my water-skin? I am afraid there are few fresh sources in the woods."

            "That we will not do," mother said sternly. "We will neither harm you nor add you. You are on your own. Expect neither protection nor aid from us."

            His green eyes glittered as he bowed his head slightly. "I see."

            Suddenly and without warning, Laurë sprang to her feet. "I will go with you," she declared. "I know the forest paths best of all here, save the hunters who travel far." This was certainly true. "I can show you the fastest paths to tread," she added, "and the safest ones. I will aid you with all my skill in tracking and surviving on one condition."

            "Laurëmîr, sit down," Father said sternly.

            "No, Father," she said steadily, not even looking at him as she descended the stairs. Her eyes were burning with an inner flame. "Will you take me with you when you find your sister? Wherever you go, you must take me with you. Anywhere, but here."

            The man nodded slowly. "Gladly, if you aid me, Lady Elf."

            There was sharp murmuring among the crowd as all the elves began rapidly speaking in elvish. "Laurë, you cannot!" mother said. "You are the Heir!"

            "I am that title no longer." She turned and stared rebelliously at us. "You have your son and his pretty wife." Luinros gave Laurë a sharp, angry look. She heard the harshness in Laurë's tone. "Take them as your Heir. I relinquish all my ties to the throne. I am your Heir no longer." 

            "Laurëmîr." Father's voice was laced with anger. "I command you to stay."

            "Then you command nothing but air. I will not stay. If you try again to confine me, I will die. I tell you this truly. I am not meant to wither behind castle walls."

            The proclamation was an astonishing one, much like the slap of ice water across the face, but not completely unexpected. The fact that she would die, however, if confined again, no one doubted. The fierceness in her face reminded me of the tethered hawks many humans kept as hunters. They longed for freedom, and many died in captivity. So, too, would my sister have died if she remained locked forever in our palace. This no one doubted. No one, but my father.

            "This dramatics has gone far enough," Father snapped. "Guards, take this man and leave him outside the palace walls, far enough out that he cannot find his way back. And take my daughter to her room. I will have no more of this mutiny from you!"

            "Then you sign my death, father," she said coldly. "I hope it brings you much joy." Father jumped to his feet but Laurë had turned and fled the room, leaving the traveler much confused, as this all had been spoken rapidly in elvish. 

            I followed her out. Even as I caught up to her in the hall, though, she seemed to weaken. I caught her in horror as she fell over, her face paling. I recognized the signs—but no, it could not be! Not in one so young!

            The signs of death by heartbreak are known to our people, and thankfully rare. Much as a cut flower will linger for a while before wilting, so will one of our race wilt and die as they loose the will to live. So was the will lost in my sister's heart.

            She opened her eyes when I caught her, calling her name. "Let me die, brother." Her voice was soft and weak. "Then at last I will be free from here."

            Panicking, I lifted her and carried her back to the throne room. "Father!" I shouted. "Laurëmîr is dying! You must let her go if you wish her to live yet!"

            The color and anger drained from his face as he came near and touched her face. Laurë's eyes were closed again, and she flinched. Her skin was cold and she was growing very white.

            Father closed his eyes, and I could see his pain. "Then I have no choice," he said softly. He lifted his eyes to mine. "Let her go with the traveler then. It is the only way." His voice was heavy and laced with sorrow and bitterness. I turned and ran as fast as I could to catch the guards leading the man out. 

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Comments? Complaints? Thoughts? Musings? Anything? Let me know, please review! If you've taken the time to read my story, please take the time to tell me what you thought of it! Many thanks.


	4. Chapter Four

I uploaded the wrong page here, sorry. Will update as soon as I write a new chapter. 


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